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Day 1
Naruto hurled another kunai at the target, missing wildly. The weapon clattered against the stone and disappeared into the mist that perpetually shrouded Takigakure's lower levels. He'd been at it for hours since storming away from Fuu's waterfall, his movements growing increasingly erratic.
"Stupid... naive... flying..." Each word was punctuated by another throw, another miss.
The sun had long since set, but Naruto couldn't bring himself to return to their lodgings. Going back meant questions from Jiraiya, meant explaining why he was alone, meant thinking about Fuu's words.
"Chomei's not a monster—she's kind!"
"Kind," Naruto spat, reaching for another kunai only to find his holster empty. "Yeah, right."
He slumped against a moss-covered boulder, breath coming in ragged gasps. His right hand throbbed—he'd been gripping the weapons too tightly, the metal edges cutting into his palm. Crimson droplets spattered the stone beneath him.
The massive Mother Tree loomed in the darkness, its upper reaches lost in cloud and mist. Somewhere up there, Fuu was probably sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of how wrong she was.
"The tailed beasts are monsters," Naruto muttered to himself, voice hard with conviction. "All of them."
A low, rumbling laugh echoed from somewhere deep in his mind—so faint he almost missed it, yet unmistakable.
"All of us, little jailer?"
Naruto jerked upright, heart hammering. The voice—dripping with malice—was gone as quickly as it had come. But the damage was done; sleep would not come easily tonight.
Day 2
Dawn broke over Takigakure, pale light filtering through layers of mist to dance across the sacred waterfall where Jiraiya had instructed Naruto to train. The falls themselves were a marvel—fifty feet of rushing water that somehow flowed upward in defiance of nature, feeding the Mother Tree's elevated ecosystem.
"Focus your chakra," Jiraiya instructed from his perch on a nearby stone. "Imagine it sharp as a blade, thin as paper. The water's not your enemy—it's a path."
Naruto stood knee-deep in the pool at the waterfall's base, hands forming the necessary sign. His face, usually so expressive, was a mask of rigid concentration.
"Sharper," he muttered to himself. "Thinner."
Chakra flared from his palms—visible, wild, unfocused. He thrust his hands toward the cascading sheet of water, willing it to part.
The waterfall shimmered, rippled... and remained intact. The backlash of chakra sent Naruto stumbling backward, splashing gracelessly into the pool.
"You're fighting it," Jiraiya observed, making a note in a small scroll. "The water's flowing one way, your chakra another. They need to harmonize."
Naruto dragged himself up, soaking wet and scowling. "I am harmonizing!"
"No, you're forcing. Big difference." Jiraiya's eyes narrowed. "Something on your mind, kid? You seem... distracted."
"I'm fine," Naruto snapped, resuming his stance. "Let me try again."
Jiraiya shrugged. "Your call. But remember—water always wins in the end. It doesn't fight; it flows, adapts, persists. There's a lesson there."
Naruto ignored him, focusing again on the waterfall. But as he gathered his chakra, unbidden images flashed through his mind—Fuu's hurt expression, her wings buzzing with anger as she flew away.
His chakra surged wildly, the backlash this time strong enough to knock him completely off his feet and send him tumbling across the surface of the pool.
"Yeah," Jiraiya said dryly as Naruto surfaced, sputtering. "Totally fine."
Day 3
Blood mixed with water, swirling in pink eddies around Naruto's feet. His hands were raw, skin splitting from the constant flow of chakra. Still, he persisted, blue eyes fixed on the waterfall.
"Cut, damn it!" he growled through clenched teeth.
Nearby, a dozen shadow clones worked on various tasks—some attempting the same technique, others practicing taijutsu forms, a third group hunched over sealing scrolls. The night was well advanced, stars barely visible through Taki's perpetual mist.
Jiraiya had left hours ago, warning Naruto not to overdo it. The warning had gone unheeded.
Another attempt, another failure. The waterfall mocked him with its constancy.
"WHY WON'T YOU BREAK?" Naruto roared, frustration boiling over. He sank to his knees in the shallow water, chest heaving.
"Because you are weak," came that voice again—clearer this time, contemptuous. "Always have been. Always will be."
"Shut up," Naruto hissed, clutching his head. "You don't get to talk."
"The bug-girl was right about one thing," the Kyuubi continued, its voice crawling through Naruto's mind like poison. "Not all bijuu are the same. Some are merely pathetic."
"I said SHUT UP!" Naruto slammed his fist into the water, sending up a spray that glittered in the moonlight.
"Make me," the fox taunted. "Oh wait... you can't. Just like you couldn't save your precious Uchiha friend. Just like you can't even cut a simple waterfall."
Something snapped inside Naruto. Red chakra flared around him, boiling the water at his feet. His features sharpened, whisker marks deepening, canines lengthening. Eyes that had been blue moments before now burned crimson with slitted pupils.
"I'll show you who's weak," he snarled, no longer sounding entirely like himself.
The clones nearest to him poofed out of existence as the corrosive chakra washed over them. Naruto raised his hands toward the waterfall, red energy swirling around his arms like hungry flames.
A massive hand clamped down on his shoulder, breaking his concentration. The chakra sputtered, flared, then receded as Jiraiya's sealing tag slapped against Naruto's forehead.
"Enough," the Sannin said, his voice uncharacteristically stern. "That's enough, Naruto."
The red glow faded from Naruto's eyes, leaving him dazed and suddenly exhausted. He slumped forward, Jiraiya's grip the only thing keeping him upright.
"I almost had it," he mumbled.
"No," Jiraiya corrected quietly. "It almost had you."
Day 4
"Absolutely not," the Taki medic-nin declared, binding Naruto's hands with chakra-infused bandages. "No training for at least 24 hours. These burns need time to heal, even with your... unique recovery abilities."
The small examination room was sparse but clean, tucked into one of the Mother Tree's lower branches. Naruto sat on the edge of a bamboo table, scowling at the floor while Jiraiya leaned against the doorframe.
"Burns?" Naruto protested. "They're just a little raw—"
"Second-degree chakra burns," the medic cut him off, her tone brooking no argument. "Plus exhaustion, dehydration, and minor chakra pathway inflammation. What were you doing, trying to reroute a river with your bare hands?"
Naruto glanced at Jiraiya, who arched an eyebrow in silent challenge. Go ahead. Tell her.
"Just training," Naruto muttered.
The medic finished her work with a tight knot. "Well, 'just training' nearly cooked your chakra network. Rest. Hydrate. Come back tomorrow if the pain increases." She gathered her supplies and nodded to Jiraiya before exiting.
The moment she was gone, Jiraiya closed the door and fixed Naruto with a hard stare.
"Want to tell me what really happened last night? Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't 'just training' that had you glowing like a red lantern and about to announce our presence to every sensor in Takigakure."
Naruto fidgeted with the edge of his bandage. "I got frustrated."
"Frustrated," Jiraiya repeated flatly. "Kid, I've seen you frustrated. That was something else." He crossed his arms. "This have anything to do with your green-haired friend? The one you've been pointedly not mentioning for days?"
"She's not my friend," Naruto snapped, then winced as the sudden movement pulled at his damaged hands. "And no, it doesn't."
"Right. And I'm the Daimyo's grandmother." Jiraiya sighed, running a hand through his wild white mane. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but this cold war isn't helping anyone—especially not your training."
"I'm making progress," Naruto insisted.
"You're making a mess. Of the waterfall, of yourself, of our goodwill with Taki." Jiraiya pushed away from the door and moved to stand directly in front of Naruto. "One more flare-up like last night, and Elder Shuu will have us escorted to the border before you can say 'sorry.' I don't know if you know, but a Jinchuuriki that is unstable is a big red flag for every village."
Naruto looked away, jaw set stubbornly.
"Fine. Don't talk. But stay away from the waterfall today. Doctor's orders." Jiraiya headed for the door, then paused. "And Naruto? That voice you heard? It never has your best interests at heart. Remember that."
The door closed behind him, leaving Naruto alone with bandaged hands and a head full of questions he didn't want to answer.
Day 5
Confinement did not suit Naruto Uzumaki. By midday, he'd paced every inch of their quarters, reorganized his equipment three times, and even attempted to read one of Jiraiya's manuscripts (only to toss it aside in disgust at the first steamy scene).
His hands itched beneath the bandages—not from pain, but from the accelerated healing already taking place. The medic had been right about his "unique recovery abilities," though she couldn't have known their source.
Jiraiya was nowhere to be found, likely gathering "research material" at Taki's bathhouses.
"This is stupid," Naruto muttered, peering out the leaf-framed window at the village below. Somewhere out there, Fuu was probably flying around, talking to her Bijuu like they were best friends.
The thought still rankled, but the white-hot anger of their confrontation had dulled somewhat. In its place was a persistent, nagging doubt that he refused to acknowledge.
What if she was right? What if the Seven-Tails really was different?
"No," he said aloud, shaking his head. "The fox killed thousands. Shukaku made Gaara a killer. They're monsters, all of them."
"Such certainty," came that rumbling voice, so faint it might have been imagination. "For one who knows so little."
Naruto stiffened. "Didn't ask your opinion."
"Yet you speak of me so freely. Tell me, little jailer—have you ever tried to know me? Or is hatred easier than understanding?"
"Understanding what?" Naruto hissed, glancing around to ensure he was truly alone. "That you'd destroy everything if you got out? That you killed my parents? Pretty simple to understand."
A low, mirthless chuckle was his only answer before the presence receded, leaving behind a hollow feeling in Naruto's chest.
He flexed his hands, testing the bandages. They were healing—faster than any normal human's would. Because he wasn't normal. Never had been.
Maybe that's what bothered him most about Fuu. She'd embraced her abnormality, made peace with it in a way he never had.
"Doesn't make her right," he muttered, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.
Day 6
The bandages came off early, against medical advice. By late afternoon, Naruto was back at the waterfall, though he'd promised Jiraiya to "take it easy"—a promise that lasted approximately seven minutes.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!" A dozen copies of Naruto appeared in a burst of smoke, each taking up position around the waterfall's perimeter.
"Alright," the original Naruto declared. "New approach. We're gonna study this thing from every angle. You three—" he pointed to a group of clones, "—check the base flow. You guys, halfway up. You two, at the crest. Everyone else, with me."
The clones scattered to their assignments while Naruto waded into the pool again. His hands were still tender, the new pink skin sensitive to the cool water, but he ignored the discomfort.
"Focus," he reminded himself. "Not force. Flow with it."
He extended his hands, channeling chakra more gently than before. The water responded, rippling around his fingers like it was greeting an old friend.
For a brief, exhilarating moment, Naruto felt it—the rhythm of the waterfall, the pattern in its endless flow. His chakra aligned with it, two currents becoming one.
Then a memory hit him—not his own, but from a clone that had just dispersed after losing its footing. The momentary distraction was enough; his concentration slipped, and the connection broke.
"Damn it!" Naruto slapped the water in frustration, sending up a spray that caught the late afternoon sunlight. "Almost had it that time!"
"Had what?" came a gruff voice from the shore.
Elder Shuu stood at the waterfall's edge, traditional robes immaculate despite the misty air, his stern face unreadable. Two Taki ANBU flanked him silently.
Naruto straightened, suddenly aware of how he must look—soaking wet, surrounded by clones, his face set in a scowl. "Uh, just training, sir."
Shuu's gaze swept over the scene, lingering on the churning water where Naruto stood. "I see. And where is your master?"
As if summoned by the question, Jiraiya appeared on a high rock overlooking the training ground. "Right here, Elder. Just observing my student's progress."
The tension in the air was palpable, even to Naruto's sometimes oblivious senses. Shuu and Jiraiya stared at each other for a long moment, some unspoken communication passing between them.
"Very well," Shuu said finally. "But remember—our hospitality has limits, Toad Sage. As does our patience." His gaze shifted back to Naruto, eyes narrowing slightly. "Especially with those who carry... burdens."
The implication was clear. They knew about the Kyuubi, and they were watching.
Shuu departed as silently as he'd arrived, the ANBU melting into the mist behind him.
"Great," Naruto groaned once they were gone. "Now they think I'm dangerous."
"You are dangerous," Jiraiya replied, hopping down to join him. "All jinchūriki are. It's why villages both value and fear you." He nodded toward the waterfall. "But that's not what's holding you back here."
Naruto dispersed his remaining clones with a sigh. "Then what is?"
Jiraiya placed a heavy hand on Naruto's shoulder. "When a river meets an obstacle, it doesn't fight—it flows around, over, under. It finds the path of least resistance." He gestured to the waterfall. "You're still trying to defeat this water, when you should be joining it."
"I don't know how," Naruto admitted, the confession painful after days of stubborn denial.
"You will," Jiraiya promised. "But not today. You're done for now."
As they walked away, Naruto cast one last look at the waterfall. For just a moment, he thought he saw a flash of green wings hovering near its crest, but it was gone before he could be sure.
Day 7
The roar of the waterfall drowned out everything except the harsh rasp of Naruto's breathing. His hands, raw and bleeding from a night of unrelenting training, trembled as he formed the hand sign again. Seven days since he'd stormed away from Fuu. Seven days of pushing himself past exhaustion, as if he could wash away their argument in the endless cascade of water before him.
"Split, damn it!" Naruto growled, his voice hoarse as chakra surged through his palms.
A clone's seal attempt backfired with a small explosion, sending it poofing out of existence in a cloud of smoke. The memory—failure, again—transferred instantly to Naruto, who slammed his fist into the water's surface.
"Just one clean cut. That's all!"
The eastern sky had begun to lighten, pale fingers of dawn stretching over the village hidden beneath the massive Tree. Naruto hadn't noticed. His blue eyes, rimmed with dark circles, remained fixed on the shimmering wall of water that had defeated him night after night.
Focus on the water. Not on her. Not on what she said.
But Fuu's words kept slipping through his defenses like the waterfall through his fingers.
"I thought you weren't like the others. Thought you'd get it—being different, being hated."
The memory of her face, hurt and disappointed before she flew away, flashed unbidden. Naruto gritted his teeth and pushed harder, his chakra flaring wildly.
"Kid, you look like something a cat coughed up, chewed on, and spat back out."
Jiraiya's voice cut through Naruto's concentration. The Sannin stood on a rock overlooking the training area, arms crossed over his broad chest, white hair stirring in the morning breeze.
"Not now, Pervy Sage," Naruto muttered, not breaking his stance. "Almost got it."
"You said that yesterday. And the day before." Jiraiya hopped down, dispersing two sparring clones with casual taps. "And your chakra's all over the place. It's like watching someone try to cut paper with a tsunami."
"I just need to focus harder!"
"What you need," Jiraiya said, grabbing Naruto by the collar and hauling him back from the water's edge, "is to stop being such a knucklehead."
Naruto twisted free, face flushed with anger and exhaustion. "I'm training! Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Training, yes. Whatever this self-punishment routine is? No." Jiraiya gestured at the remaining clones, who had paused to watch the exchange. "Look at you—you're fighting yourself in more ways than one."
One by one, the clones disappeared in puffs of smoke as Naruto reluctantly released the jutsu. Each dispersion sent another wave of fatigue washing over him.
"Your chakra is as turbulent as this waterfall," Jiraiya continued, poking Naruto's chest with a thick finger. "You think I can't tell when something's eating at you? You haven't mentioned that green-haired girl in a week, but your chakra's screaming her name."
"She doesn't get it," Naruto snapped, the words bursting out before he could stop them. "Thinks Bijuu are just misunderstood fuzzy friends!"
"She's mine, and I'm hers!"
Another flash of Fuu's face, this time fierce and protective. Naruto shook his head sharply, as if he could dislodge the memory.
"She's wrong," he insisted, more to himself than to Jiraiya. "I've seen what these monsters do! The fox, Gaara's raccoon thing—they destroy everything!"
Jiraiya sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And you're an expert on all Bijuu now? Been studying them for years, have you?"
"I don't need to! I've got one inside me, remember?" Naruto jabbed a thumb at his stomach, where the seal lay hidden under his soaked jacket. "The one that killed my parents!"
"And that's why you haven't made any progress with this waterfall." Jiraiya gestured at the rushing water. "You're fighting it, just like you're fighting everything else. Your own emotions, that girl's perspective, even the very chakra inside you."
Naruto opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, swaying slightly as a wave of exhaustion hit him. His body ached, his hands stung, and his head pounded in rhythm with the falls.
"Look," Jiraiya said, his voice softening as he placed a heavy hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Stubbornness got you this far, I'll give you that. But sometimes the thing blocking your progress isn't the technique—it's you."
"I'm not—"
"You're dead on your feet, kid. No more training until you've rested." There was no room for argument in the Sannin's tone. "And when you wake up, we're going to have a talk about what's really going on in that hard head of yours."
Naruto wanted to protest, but his legs chose that moment to buckle. Only Jiraiya's hand kept him from tumbling face-first onto the rocks.
"Yeah," Naruto muttered, the fight draining from him as quickly as his chakra had. "Fine."
As Jiraiya steered him away from the waterfall, Naruto cast one last glance over his shoulder. For a moment, he could swear he saw Fuu sitting on that hidden ledge behind the smaller falls, wings gleaming in the dawn light. But when he blinked, there was nothing but mist and tumbling water.
The temporary quarters they'd been assigned sat nestled in a hollow branch midway up the Mother Tree, the polished wooden walls gleaming with inlaid chakra seals. Sunlight filtered through leafy windows, dappling the floor with dancing shadows. Naruto had slept for twelve straight hours before jerking awake, his dreams a confused tangle of falling water and green wings.
Now, he sat cross-legged on his mat, wolfing down the rice and fish Jiraiya had brought. The Sannin lounged against the opposite wall, uncharacteristically quiet, watching Naruto with eyes that missed nothing.
"So," Jiraiya said finally, as Naruto set down his empty bowl. "You ready to talk about what's really going on?"
Naruto wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nothing to talk about. I'm training hard, like I'm supposed to."
"Bullshit." Jiraiya's blunt response made Naruto's head snap up. "You've been avoiding that Fuu girl for a week. You're working yourself to exhaustion, your chakra control is worse than when we got here, and you're refusing to make progress."
"I am making progress!" Naruto protested. "My sealing's getting better, and I almost cracked the waterfall yesterday!"
"No, you didn't. You almost cracked yourself." Jiraiya leaned forward, expression serious. "Listen, kid. I've trained other stubborn brats before you. This isn't just about working hard—it's about working smart. And right now, you're letting something personal block your training."
Naruto's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"It's about what that girl said about her Bijuu, isn't it?" Jiraiya asked softly.
"She thinks they're friends," Naruto muttered, staring at the floor. "Like the Seven-Tails is some kind of pet or something. It's stupid—they're monsters!"
Jiraiya was quiet for a moment, considering. "Did you know there are nine Bijuu in total?"
"Nine?" Naruto looked up, startled. "I thought... I mean, I only know about mine, Gaara's, and Fuu's."
"Nine Bijuu, nine jinchūriki, scattered across the Five Great Nations and beyond." Jiraiya's voice took on the rhythm of a storyteller. "Each sealed differently, each relationship unique."
"There are six more people like me, Fuu and Gaara?" The thought was staggering. Naruto had always felt uniquely cursed, set apart. The idea that there were others—many others—left him reeling.
"Yes. Though 'like you' might be stretching it." Jiraiya shifted, stretching his legs out. "Every village has its own sealing techniques, its own philosophy for containing Bijuu. Some, like Suna with Gaara, see the Bijuu as nothing but a weapon to be controlled. Others..."
"Like Taki," Naruto finished, glancing toward the window. Outside, the massive Tree stretched upward, its branches heavy with mist and mystery.
"Exactly. Takigakure has one of the oldest sealing traditions. Their approach allows for...let's call it a more harmonious relationship between jinchūriki and Bijuu."
Naruto snorted. "Harmonious? These things are killers! The Kyuubi destroyed half of Konoha! Gaara's Shukaku turned him into a murdering insomniac!"
"Both true," Jiraiya acknowledged with a nod. "But consider this: a blade can kill or protect, depending on how it's wielded. The same might be true for chakra beasts."
"That's different!" Naruto stood abruptly, pacing the small room. "Weapons don't think! They don't hate! The fox—it's full of nothing but hatred. I've felt it!"
"And why might that be?" Jiraiya asked, his voice deceptively casual. "How would you feel, being ripped from freedom, passed from one jailer to another for generations, seen as nothing but a source of power to be exploited?"
Naruto stopped pacing, his face confused. "Are you... defending the thing that killed my parents?"
"Understanding doesn't mean forgiving," Jiraiya said firmly. "The Kyuubi has caused immeasurable suffering. Nothing changes that." He paused, eyes steady on Naruto's face. "But it's also a part of you, kid. From the moment the Fourth sealed it inside you, your fates became intertwined. It'll be with you until the day you die."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Naruto's voice cracked.
"It's supposed to make you think. Is living with hatred and anger for the rest of your life really the path you want? Because I've seen where that leads." Jiraiya's expression darkened. "Your friend Sasuke lives consumed by hatred. Look where it's gotten him—straight into Orochimaru's clutches."
The comparison struck Naruto like a physical blow. "I'm nothing like Sasuke!"
"Then don't think like him," Jiraiya countered. "Don't let anger be the only thing driving you forward."
Naruto sank back down onto his mat, suddenly drained. "I don't know how else to feel about it. The fox took everything from me."
"Yet you've built so much since then. Friends, bonds, a place in the village." Jiraiya's voice softened. "Don't let old hatred blind you to new understanding."
They sat in silence for several minutes, the only sound the distant rush of water and the creaking of the Tree as it swayed in the wind.
"There's something else going on in this village," Jiraiya said finally, changing tack. "Those bodies you found in the root system weren't the first. Taki has been dealing with these deaths for months—civilians with chakra burns from techniques they shouldn't be able to perform."
Naruto looked up, glad for the shift in topic. "The guards mentioned cursed seals. And overuse. Like they were channeling chakra they couldn't handle."
"Smart boy," Jiraiya nodded approvingly. "This cult that's been forming—they're tapping into something dangerous. And it's all tied to the social structure here. The closer to the Tree you live..."
"The more important you are," Naruto finished, remembering what Fuu had shown him. "Shinobi at the top, civilians at the bottom."
"Exactly. Those at the bottom are getting desperate, looking for ways to level the playing field, at least that's what I think from what I have seen. And someone's offering them a shortcut to power—one that's killing them."
Naruto frowned, thinking of the charred bodies, their faces frozen in agony. "But why would they risk it?"
"When you have nothing, any chance seems worth taking." Jiraiya stood, stretching his massive frame. "Which brings me to your training. You're stuck, Naruto. You need to understand this place—its dynamics, its people—if you're going to master the techniques I'm teaching you."
"What's that got to do with—"
"Everything. The waterfall technique isn't just about force—it's about harmony, balance, understanding the flow." Jiraiya fixed him with a stern look. "And right now, you're too busy fighting yourself to listen to what the water's trying to tell you."
Naruto crossed his arms stubbornly. "So what am I supposed to do? Meditate under a waterfall for a week? Talk to the water?"
"No." Jiraiya's smile held no humor. "You're going to make things right with the green-haired girl."
"What?! No way!" Naruto jumped to his feet again. "She's the one who's wrong about—"
"Did I make it sound like a suggestion?" Jiraiya's voice cut through Naruto's protest like a blade. "This isn't optional, kid. We came here for you to train, and right now, you're wasting my time and yours." He headed for the door, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Find Fuu. Talk to her. See this village through her eyes. Then come back and try the waterfall again."
"But—"
"No buts. I've got research to do." The familiar lecherous grin returned to Jiraiya's face, breaking the tension slightly. "There's a bathhouse on the eastern side of the Tree that I haven't properly investigated yet. Fix things with the girl, or I'll make you write the next chapter of Icha Icha for me."
The door slid shut behind him, leaving Naruto alone with his thoughts and a challenge he didn't want to face. But beneath his resistance, a tiny seed of curiosity had taken root. Nine jinchūriki. Nine different relationships with the beasts inside them. Could Fuu really have found a way to coexist with her Bijuu that didn't end in pain?
He'd never know if he didn't ask. And the thought of writing perverted novels for Jiraiya was motivation enough to at least try.
With a resigned groan, Naruto pushed himself to his feet. He had a green-haired, winged girl to find. And an apology to fumble through, even if he still wasn't entirely convinced he was the one who needed to make it.
❟❛❟
❟❛❟
Naruto checked the waterfall ledge for the third time that morning, finding it as empty as before. His rehearsed apology—already awkward and halting—was beginning to fade from memory with each failed attempt to locate Fuu.
"Maybe she's at the prayer grove," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he trudged through the mist. The Mother Tree loomed above, its massive trunk stretching higher than the eye could follow. Upper-level shinobis bounded effortlessly between branches, their chakra-enhanced leaps carrying them through shortcuts denied to civilians below.
Two more spots yielded nothing—not the training grounds where he'd glimpsed her practicing aerial maneuvers, nor the quiet corner of the village market where he'd once seen her buying candy. By midday, frustration had settled into Naruto's bones like a dull ache.
"Stupid Pervy Sage," he grumbled, kicking a stone into the mist. "Stupid Fuu. How am I supposed to apologize when she's nowhere—"
A flash of green caught his eye. Across the narrow wooden bridge marking Taki's formal boundary, Fuu stood adjusting a worn canvas bag, her back to the village. Her wings were dormant, but her posture was tense, alert—like a bird ready for flight.
Naruto froze, suddenly forgetting every word of his prepared speech. He'd spent a week avoiding her, and now that she was right there, all he wanted was to turn around and head back to the waterfall.
Suck it up, he told himself. Just say sorry and get it over with. Inhaling deeply, he plastered what he hoped was a casual grin on his face and called out.
"Oi! Fuu!"
She stiffened but didn't turn, her hands pausing in their methodical organization of the bag's contents.
Naruto jogged across the bridge, the wooden planks creaking beneath his feet. "Hey, I've been looking all over for—"
"Why?" The word was clipped, cold, nothing like her usual exuberance. She still hadn't turned to face him.
Naruto faltered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, uh. Well, Jiraiya said I should... I mean, I wanted to..." He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Look, about what happened..."
"Save it." Fuu finally turned, and Naruto almost took a step back at the flatness in her usually bright eyes. "I've got things to do."
She hefted the bag onto her shoulder and started walking along a narrow dirt path that wound away from the village, into the thickening mist.
"Wait!" Naruto jogged after her, scrambling for his dignity and whatever fragments of his apology hadn't deserted him. "I came to say I'm... I was..."
"A judgmental jerk?" Fuu supplied, not breaking stride. Her short green hair clung damply to her neck in the mist.
"Hey, that's not fair! I was just—"
"Treating me like everyone else does?" Her pace quickened. "Deciding what I am without knowing a thing about me?"
"That's not—okay, fine." Naruto moved in front of her, forcing her to stop. "I was a jerk, alright? I shouldn't have yelled like that."
Fuu stared at him, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant sound of water flowing through the Tree's complex root system.
"That's your apology?" she finally asked.
Naruto shifted uncomfortably. "I'm... sorry," he managed, the words feeling strange on his tongue. "For yelling. And stuff."
"And stuff," Fuu repeated, her lips twitching despite herself. "Wow. Moving."
"Look, I'm trying here!" Naruto's voice rose in frustration. "What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. I don't want you to say anything." She sidestepped him and continued down the path. "I've got deliveries to make to the outer sectors. Medicine, food, basic stuff."
Naruto stood for a moment, torn between wounded pride and Jiraiya's directive. With a growl of frustration, he turned and followed her.
"I'll come with you."
"No."
"I wasn't asking."
"Fine," Fuu said, not bothering to look back. "Just don't slow me down."
They walked in brittle silence, the path narrowing as it descended a gentle slope. The mist thickened around them, obscuring the village behind and the distant outer sectors ahead. Naruto watched Fuu's back, noting the slight stiffness in her shoulders, the deliberate distance she maintained between them.
After several minutes, he tried again. "So, you do this a lot? Deliveries?"
"Every week," she replied, her tone marginally less icy. "Since I was ten."
"Why? Doesn't Taki have, like, official people for that?"
Fuu adjusted the strap of her bag, her steps slowing slightly. "Official people don't care about the outer sectors. They're civilians—bottom of the ladder."
"So the village just ignores them?"
"Not ignores. Just... prioritizes." For the first time, a hint of bitterness crept into her voice. "The way things work here, if you can't use chakra, you're not worth much."
"That's messed up," Naruto said, genuinely disturbed.
Fuu glanced back at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before her guard went back up. "Yeah, well. That's why I do this. Nobody else will."
As they crested a small rise, Naruto noticed a subtle change in Fuu's demeanor. Her steps became lighter, her shoulders gradually relaxing as they moved further from the village center. When a child's voice called her name from the mist ahead, the transformation was complete—her face broke into the first real smile he'd seen since their argument.
"You're late, bug-girl!" the child shouted, materializing from the haze—a skinny boy with dirty knees and a gap-toothed grin.
"Had to pack extra this time, Tomi," Fuu called back, her voice warming as it never had for Naruto. "Is your mom feeling any better?"
The boy—Tomi—bounded up to them, then skidded to a halt at the sight of Naruto. "Who's the yellow-head?" he asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Nobody important," Fuu replied, but there was less edge to her jab now. "Just someone learning about how things really work in Taki."
Tomi grinned, revealing a gap where his front tooth should be. "Well, yellow-head, you picked the right guide!" He gestured for them to follow, darting ahead through the thickening mist. "C'mon, Baba Yui's waiting for her medicine!"
As they followed the energetic boy, the path descended into what Naruto could only describe as another world. The massive Mother Tree receded behind them, enveloped in perpetual mist, and the carefully maintained shinobi district gave way to something altogether different.
The change was gradual but unmistakable. First, the smooth stone paths became packed dirt, rutted from rainwater and constant use. The neat wooden buildings with their polished facades and intricate carvings disappeared, replaced by simpler structures—still solid, but lacking ornamentation. Gardens became smaller, more practical; flowers gave way to vegetables and herbs.
"Upper civilian sector," Fuu explained briefly, noting Naruto's wandering gaze. "Merchants, craftsmen, anyone who provides direct service to shinobi."
They passed through quickly, Fuu clearly intent on reaching somewhere deeper. With each quarter-mile, the living conditions deteriorated further. Houses grew smaller, built from whatever materials were available—mismatched wood, sheets of hammered metal, even discarded shinobi equipment repurposed as building material. Naruto spotted a wall partially constructed from old training posts, the weather-worn strike marks still visible.
"Middle sector," Fuu said, her stride purposeful as she led the way. "Regular workers. They maintain the lower parts of the Tree, process Hero Water for distribution, that kind of thing."
Tomi skipped ahead of them, occasionally turning to walk backward as he studied Naruto with undisguised curiosity. "You got marks on your face like whiskers," he observed. "You part cat or something?"
"Nah, just born with 'em," Naruto replied, finding the boy's directness refreshing after a week of Jiraiya's cryptic wisdom and now Fuu's cold silence.
The mist here was thicker, heavier with moisture that seemed to seep into everything. Clothes hanging on lines between buildings dripped steadily, never quite drying. The air smelled of damp wood, cooking fires, and something else—a subtle herbal scent Naruto couldn't place.
"It's lilywort," Fuu said, catching his sniff of confusion. "They burn it constantly out here. Helps with the lung rot."
"Lung rot?"
"Living in constant damp isn't great for breathing," she explained, gesturing to the mist. "Especially for kids and old folks."
As if to illustrate her point, a racking cough echoed from a nearby dwelling—deep, wet, and painful to hear. Fuu immediately adjusted course, heading toward the sound.
They approached a tiny house built entirely of salvaged materials. The roof was a patchwork of metal sheets, the walls a combination of mismatched wood and what looked like old tatami mats sealed with tree sap. Despite its ramshackle appearance, the dwelling was meticulously maintained—the small yard swept clean, a few hardy flowers growing in clay pots by the door.
Fuu knocked, calling out softly, "Baba Yui? It's Fuu."
The door creaked open to reveal an elderly woman so tiny that Naruto initially mistook her for a child. Her face was a map of wrinkles, eyes cloudy with cataracts, but her smile was warm as sunlight breaking through Taki's eternal mist.
"My little buzzing friend," she wheezed, reaching out with gnarled hands. "Right on time, as always."
Fuu took the woman's hands, her entire demeanor softening in a way Naruto had never seen. "Brought your medicine, Baba. And some of that tea you like."
"Such a good girl." Baba Yui's gaze drifted to Naruto, her cloudy eyes somehow still sharp. "And you've brought the sun with you today."
Naruto blinked in confusion until he realized she was referring to his bright orange and yellow clothing—a stark contrast to the muted colors worn by most Taki residents.
"This is Naruto," Fuu said, the ice in her voice when addressing him distinctly different from her gentle tone with the old woman. "He's... visiting."
"Come in, come in," Baba Yui insisted, shuffling back into her home. "Any friend of Fuu's is welcome here."
The interior was small but immaculately ordered—every inch of space utilized with careful precision. A kettle hung over a tiny fire pit, its contents steaming gently. The walls were lined with shelves holding jars of dried herbs, roots, and what looked like medicines.
"Sit, Sun Boy," Baba Yui directed, pointing a crooked finger at a worn cushion. "While Fuu sorts my old bones out."
Naruto sat awkwardly, watching as Fuu unpacked various items from her bag—a packet of herbs, a jar of thick honey, and dried mushrooms that glowed faintly in the dim light. Her hands moved with efficiency, measuring and mixing with a healer's precision.
"Drink this every morning and night," she instructed, combining ingredients in a small pottery jar. "And rub this on your chest when the coughing gets bad."
"So bossy," Baba Yui chuckled, the sound dissolving into another wet cough. "Just like your mother was."
Fuu's hands stilled momentarily, a flash of something—pain? longing?—crossing her face before she continued her work. "You knew my mother well?"
"Of course, child. She came to the outer rings too, before..." The old woman trailed off, glancing at Naruto.
Fuu nodded, understanding without words. "Before she became my mother," she finished softly.
Naruto shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like an intruder on a private moment. But Baba Yui's attention had already shifted to him, her cloudy eyes inquisitive.
"So much sunlight in you," she murmured. "But shadow too, yes? Just like our Fuu."
Before Naruto could respond, a commotion outside drew their attention. Children's voices, excited and curious, called Fuu's name.
"Your fan club awaits," Baba Yui cackled. "Go on, both of you. This old woman needs her rest."
With final instructions and a gentle pat to Baba Yui's hand, Fuu led Naruto back outside. They were immediately surrounded by a small swarm of children—perhaps a dozen, ranging from toddlers to pre-teens, all with the same hungry curiosity in their eyes.
"Fuu-nee! Fuu-nee! Did you bring candy?" called one little girl, her hair tied in lopsided pigtails.
"Maybe," Fuu teased, her smile more genuine than any Naruto had seen directed at him. "If you've all been practicing your reading."
"We have! Tomi's teaching us from the book you brought last time!"
Naruto watched in fascination as Fuu transformed completely—the cold, defensive girl replaced by someone playful and warm. She distributed small wrapped candies from her bag, ruffled hair, listened to excited stories of minor triumphs and complaints.
Then the children noticed Naruto.
"Who's he?" demanded a boy missing his front teeth. "Why's he dressed like that?"
"Is he a real shinobi?" asked another, eyes wide at Naruto's headband.
Before Naruto knew what was happening, he was surrounded by curious hands touching his clothes, his headband, even his hair. Questions came rapid-fire, without pause for answers.
"What's it like up there?" "Have you been inside the Tree?" "Is it true shinobi can walk on water?" "Why do you have whiskers?" "Can you do jutsus?"
Overwhelmed, Naruto shot a desperate look at Fuu, who watched with barely concealed amusement. Finally, she clapped her hands.
"Alright, hooligans, give him space to breathe. Why don't you show him what you've been working on instead?"
The children immediately dragged Naruto toward a clearing where crude training dummies had been set up—sticks bound together with twine, old sacks stuffed with leaves, targets painted on slabs of wood.
"We're practicing to be shinobi!" declared a girl with determined eyes. "Like Fuu-nee!"
"Fuu's teaching you?" Naruto asked, surprised.
"When she can," Tomi answered, demonstrating a wobbly but recognizable Academy-style punch. "Most of us won't get to go to real training, but she shows us stuff anyway."
"Why won't you go to real training?" Naruto asked, confused.
The children exchanged glances as if he'd asked why water was wet. "We're outer-ring," explained the gap-toothed boy simply. "Only inner and middle kids get picked for the Academy, unless you're really special."
"Or unless Elder Shuu needs more soldiers," added Tomi, his young face suddenly older than his years.
Before Naruto could process this, a small girl tugged at his jacket. She couldn't have been more than four, with huge eyes and a timid expression.
"What's the Tree like?" she whispered. "Up close?"
"The Tree?" Naruto repeated, not understanding. "You mean the Mother Tree? But it's right—" He gestured vaguely back the way they'd come, where the Tree's massive form was barely visible through the mist.
"We're not allowed near it," the girl explained, her voice small. "Mama says it's only for special people."
"Not allowed? But it's... it's the center of your village!"
The children nodded as if this was perfectly normal. "We can see it from far away," Tomi said with a shrug. "But the guards stop us if we try to go closer than the middle ring."
Naruto turned to Fuu, who had been watching the exchange with a carefully neutral expression. "Is that true?"
"Why do you think they call these the 'outer rings'?" she replied, her voice pitched low so only he could hear. "It's not just about distance."
Before Naruto could respond, they were interrupted by another group approaching—adults this time, carrying various items: a basket of mushrooms, a jar of preserved fruits, a hand-carved wooden toy.
"For you, Fuu-san," said a weathered man, offering the toy—a beautifully crafted butterfly that could flap its wings when a string was pulled. "To thank you for the medicine last month. My wife's fever broke the very next day."
Fuu accepted the gifts with genuine embarrassment, protesting that they weren't necessary. "I didn't bring these things to get payment," she insisted.
"Not payment," the man corrected gently. "Gratitude."
More villagers arrived, each greeting Fuu with warmth that stood in stark contrast to the cold shoulders Naruto had seen her receive in the village proper. There was no fear in their eyes, no whispered comments about "the Tree's mistake." Here, in this forgotten corner of Takigakure, Fuu wasn't a jinchūriki—she was simply a friend.
"Kaito-san," Fuu called, waving to a man limping heavily toward them with the aid of a crutch. "I've got your pain salve."
The man—Kaito—approached slowly, his right leg ending abruptly at the knee, the limb replaced by a crude wooden prosthetic. Despite this, he carried himself with dignity, his Taki headband still tied proudly around his upper arm, though the metal plate was scratched and dull.
"My savior," he said with a grin that transformed his scarred face. "Right on schedule."
"Former jōnin," Fuu explained quietly to Naruto as she rummaged in her bag. "Lost his leg on a mission three years ago."
"But he's got a headband," Naruto said, confused. "Shouldn't the village be taking care of him?"
Kaito laughed, having overheard. "The headband just means I serve Taki, kid. Doesn't mean Taki serves me." He tapped his wooden leg. "Can't channel chakra properly anymore, so I'm not useful. Simple as that."
"That's—"
"The way things are," Kaito finished, without bitterness. "No use crying over it. Besides, I've got good neighbors." He nodded toward the gathered villagers. "And our little green guardian angel here."
Fuu blushed, handing him a small clay pot. "It's not much. Just something for the phantom pain."
As she continued distributing her supplies—medicines, scrolls with basic literacy lessons, small toys for the children—Naruto noticed something being passed among the adults. A flask, small and nondescript, from which each took a carefully measured sip before passing it on.
"What's that?" he asked Tomi, who was nearby.
"Hero Water," the boy whispered. "The diluted stuff they send down here. Each family gets a few drops a week."
"Hero Water? But isn't that supposed to make you super strong?"
Tomi snorted. "Maybe the real stuff up there. What we get is watered down so much it barely helps. Just enough to keep folks from getting too sick from the mist."
Naruto watched as an elderly man took his turn, hands shaking as he brought the flask to his lips. The change was subtle but immediate—his breathing eased, his trembling stilled slightly.
"They're not using it for power," Naruto realized aloud. "They're using it for medicine."
"What else would we use it for?" Tomi asked, genuinely puzzled. "We're not shinobi. We just want to breathe easier, work our fields without our joints aching so bad. Normal stuff."
Normal stuff. The phrase echoed in Naruto's mind as he looked around at these people—citizens of a powerful ninja village, living in conditions worse than anything he'd seen in Konoha's poorest districts. Yet they shared what little they had, cared for each other, treated Fuu with respect rather than fear.
"Does Taki know?" he asked Fuu when they had a moment alone. "About how bad it is out here?"
Fuu's expression hardened. "They know. They just don't care. As long as the outer rings keep providing food and labor, the inner rings don't ask questions."
"But that's—"
"Wrong? Yeah. Welcome to Takigakure, Naruto." She shouldered her now-empty bag. "Still think I'm naive for wanting something different?"
The question hung between them, not just about Bijuu anymore, but about everything—the unfairness of this divided village, the struggle of those deemed less valuable, the parallels to Naruto's own childhood isolation.
Before he could answer, the small girl who had asked about the Tree tugged at his hand again.
"Can you tell me what the Tree looks like?" she asked, eyes wide with wonder. "Up close? Is it really as big as the sky?"
Naruto crouched down to her level, suddenly understanding the weight of what he'd witnessed. "It's even bigger," he told her, trying to infuse his voice with all the awe the Tree deserved. "The trunk is wider than ten houses, and the branches reach so high they disappear into the clouds. The bark has these swirling patterns, kind of like..." He traced spirals in the dirt with his finger.
The girl watched, enraptured, as he described the Mother Tree in detail—not just its imposing size, but the play of light through its leaves, the feeling of standing beneath something ancient and alive. Other children gathered around, listening with the same hungry attention they might give to stories of distant lands.
Because to them, Naruto realized, the heart of their own village was as foreign and inaccessible as the moon.
As the description wound down, he caught Fuu watching him, something unreadable in her expression. The ice had thawed somewhat, replaced by cautious evaluation—as if seeing him properly for the first time since their argument.
"We should head back," she said finally, her voice neutral but no longer hostile. "It'll be dark soon."
The villagers protested, children begging for them to stay longer, but Fuu was firm. With promises to return next week, they began the long walk back toward the village center, the mist swallowing the outer ring behind them.
They walked in silence for several minutes before Naruto spoke, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.
"They really care about you."
Fuu nodded, adjusting her empty bag. "They don't see a jinchūriki when they look at me. Just a person who brings medicine and teaches their kids to read." She kicked a stone, watching it skitter ahead. "It's the only place in Taki where I can just be Fuu."
Naruto thought about the children's faces, the simple joy they'd shown at gifts that would have been considered trivial in Konoha. He thought about the old woman's cloudy eyes, the former shinobi's missing leg, the carefully measured sips of diluted Hero Water.
And he thought about what it meant that Fuu—ostracized and feared in her own village—would dedicate herself to helping those even worse off than herself.
"I was wrong," he said finally, the words difficult but necessary. "About a lot of things."
Fuu glanced at him, surprised by the admission. For a moment, her guard lowered completely, and Naruto caught a glimpse of the genuine hurt his words had caused.
"You were," she agreed simply. Then, after a pause: "But so was I, maybe. Not everyone has what I have with Chomei."
It wasn't forgiveness, not quite. But it was an opening—a crack in the ice that had formed between them. Naruto decided to take it.
"How do you stand it?" he asked. "Knowing how they live out there, while the shinobi have everything?"
Fuu's pace slowed as she considered the question. "I don't," she admitted finally. "I hate it. But I can't change the whole system by myself." Her hands clenched into fists. "So I do what I can. Bring medicine. Teach kids. Give them a glimpse of something better."
"That's..." Naruto struggled to find the right word. "That's pretty amazing, actually."
Fuu's cheeks colored slightly, and she looked away. "It's not enough. Not even close."
"It's more than anyone else is doing," Naruto pointed out.
As they walked back toward the indistinct shape of the Mother Tree, the silence between them was different—not comfortable, exactly, but no longer brittle with resentment. A space where understanding might grow, if given the chance.
Behind them, the outer rings of Takigakure faded into the mist, but the faces of its people—proud despite their hardship, kind despite their circumstances—remained vivid in Naruto's mind. For the first time, he began to understand why Fuu might see her Bijuu differently than he saw his own.
When you've been shown nothing but kindness by those with every reason to hate you, perhaps it becomes easier to see past fear to connection—even with the creature sealed inside you.
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